


Fever

by RosVailintin



Series: No Control [1]
Category: The Vamps (UK Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, Based on a One Direction Song, Bloodplay, Boyband, Boys In Love, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, No Control by One Direction, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Song Parody, Sorry Not Sorry, Vampire Brad Simpson, Vampire Sex, Vampires, brad is a vampire that looks quite mundane actually, it's not violent brad ain't gonna be such a bloodsucker, no just a tiny little bit bloodplay!, sorry tradley, thinking about shadowhunters au while writing, this will never happen even though i sort of want it to, vampires because the VAMPS!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosVailintin/pseuds/RosVailintin
Summary: It's like an electric shock running down my spine and radiating to every vein, burning my body and getting me lightheaded. It makes me want to bite deep into the fresh, soft skin and let the sweet scent of blood fill my throat. It makes me lose control.And I let it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Been ages since I last wrote a serious boyband fic...Or have I never written a 'serious' boyband fic at all. As for boyband PWP this is for sure the first one because well, neither Westlife nor Boyzone is a good choice for sex scenes, and the HomeTown boys don't really flirt that much either. And then there's Tradley (Yeah basically Tris flirts with everyone but Tradley's just so cute, cuter than all others). I'm thinking about writing a Larry parody of _No Control_ later. Actually _No Control_ is also the title of the series because it's basically a PWP collection and many of the works will be inspired by this song because it's just so inspiring and fits so many of my ships! *facepalm with shame* Btw Louis's voice in this song is just amazing. Yeah he's always amazing though. Personally I really really love his voice (and accent). Okay anyway I'll try to make this one sweet right, although now my head is somehow filled with stuff like MorMor blood play. Fine, here we go.  
>  Oh and, the title _Fever_ is a really cool song by Adam Lambert, and it slightly has something to do with this fic...No not really.  
>  This photo!! Look at the photo! It's basically where this fic came from!  
>   
> Beta'd on 13 June 2017.

Right now I'm emotional, I lose control when I'm with you.

\- ZAYN·dRuNk

* * *

'Brad? Brad, what - Wait, w-'

'Hmm...Admit that you like it...'

'Brad, it's - I...'

'C'mon, you do.'

'It's not - Ugh...It's - Brad, we shouldn't -'

'Shut up.' I press my thumb on his moving lips, breathing against his jawline. That perfect cut-glass jawline. Just staring at it makes my voice so hoarse. My vampire side is taking control of me, I guess; or it's last night's alcohol. Maybe both. The only thing I can care about now is holding my fangs back - I mean, unfortunately, I'm once again getting blood-thirsty, but blood play doesn't yet seem to be an available option. After all, from the moment I let Tris know I'm a vampire, there hasn't ever been once that I tasted HIS blood. I always, always keep my fangs away from him, even though he hasn't asked me to or not to. A small part of me doubt whether he's a pure-blood human, because when I had been collecting myself up for a whole week and finally told him I seriously was a vampire, he replied with a single 'oh' and a raise of eyebrow. Aren't mundanes supposed to be afraid of blood-drinking creatures? But well, I wasn't hoping him to freak out anyway, and to be honest, his reaction made me low-key feel really happy.

'Are you done playing with that?' He lazily mumbles against my thumb, chest heaving.

Then I realise I still have a hand in his boxers and that my fingers are subconsciously rubbing and poking the skin on his thigh. Maybe 12 vodkas were really too much, even for a vampire. 'Uh...' I tilt my head and pretend to be thinking, a little smile creeping up the corner of my lips, 'nope.'

He rolls his eyes slowly and turns away. My hand slip from his lips down to the long, thin clavicles. Tris is really skinny, especially compared to the rest of us, and he hates that himself, but I never find it a bad thing. At least, it makes it easy to carry him around.

Right in front of me, his neck is stretched, bare, smooth, little red marks splashed across both sides. It's very likely that he doesn't remember anything about them. Sun leaks in from the muslin curtains, softening the sharp contours of his visage. His eyes are loosely closed, clear shadows beneath the full, blond lashes; the rosy, pouty lips part a little. That's how he looks like when he falls asleep on the tour bus, every single time. I run my fingers along his shoulder, listening to his little hums at the touch. His skin is warm and pale with tiny little freckles that are barely noticeable. It's not all flawless, unlike Con's, but I like it. When we share a bath and I do his back, I always linger for a little while longer simply drawing circles around these freckles. He knows that, and he doesn't comment. I'll rest my chin on his shoulder, and he'll just let me. A light flush will rise up his cheeks.

'Tris?' I softly call.

He raises his eyebrows, turning towards me, and slowly lifts the eyelids. These sky-blue eyes are so clear, looking at me the way only he does.

I cup his chin with one hand, caressing his soft lower lip with the thumb. He avoids my stare, struggling between staying and pulling away. I push myself up so that my body is half hovering above his, before gently closing the gap.

The taste is kind of sweet, and I smell a mixture of his cologne, sweat and alcohol. He attempts to utter some words of rejection, but they end up sounding like low little moans. His hands climb up to my chest, pushing and pulling at the same time. I grab them in mine and settle them on either side of his head. I carefully manage not to let my fangs get in the way, only sucking at his lips softly. I know how easily he gets turned on - Don't ask, I just know. I shift to straddle his hips, attacking my tongue further in. His breaths become irregular; nervous moans escape from his throat and get drowned in the kiss. I keep my fingers closed tight around his thin wrists, so much that I'm afraid it really hurts.

I break the contact, but there's still barely no gap between us. Our breaths synchonise. His eyes are half closed, his look blank, unfocused. I gently run my fingers in his long blond hair wet with sweat, my eyes travelling down to the pink full lips, watery and swelling. There's a lovely blush rising from his neck across the jawline, all the way up to the cheekbones.

'Tris,' I whisper, 'look at me.'

His eyelids move hesitatingly, the little trembles of the lashes nearly unnoticeable. The next second, these clear blue eyes are staring into mine, the kind of gaze that hits your soul and makes you shiver, the way he looks at me during those gigs, interviews, recording sessions, photoshoots, every moment of every single day. It's so attentive, so innocent, so pure that you can't help thinking astray - Or is it just me? I'm always literally powerless under this gaze. And now, the gaze plus his warm, slow breath against my face. I don't quite know why I asked him to look at me.

He doesn't even look away from my eyes. Time slows, and this moment feels like infinity.

Every part of me is burning. The bloodsucker inside me has been revived, drowning in his alluring scent. In his irises, I see myself with fluffy, messy hair and flushed cheeks - My eyes are changing. They are turning from hazel to almost gold, glowing, the dark, deep pupils constantly widening and narrowing. He notices, but he doesn't say a word, neither does he move. I'm too overwhelmed to figure out the emotions in his gaze.

I break the eye contact and push myself up. You can't, I scream inside, you never know what can happen, this is wrong and you should -

He cups the back of my neck with both hands, pulling me gently back down. His hands are rough with old and new calluses, unhealed glisters and stained bandages he hasn't yet taken off.

'Tris...' His name slips out before I know, in a hoarse, trembling voice that doesn't usually belong to me.

'C'mon.'

'No, Tris, no, I -'

'You started this, Brad.'

'I - Look, I shouldn't have, alright? I was probably not over it yet...And we both drank too much last night and you know - Hmm!'

His kiss is passionate, a little more violent than I was ready for - if I've been ready at all - but not to a hurting extent. The hands around my neck so controlling and his move of lips and tongue however so gentle, I begin to feel dizzy and I'm clearly aware of what the aftermath can be if I go too deep in this, but I'm not able to stop either him or myself. Yeah, I started it, and now I'm struggling to keep my fangs in place. It's too hard I'm losing it.

It hasn't got this bad even last night when we were drunk as hell. I really wonder how I magically didn't hurt a single bit of him while I couldn't possibly be sober enough to think of the fangs. Well, despite the marks I left with my nails. There is still a vague memory of the way he called my name with his voice slightly rough from the singing and the shouting, of the rosy colour of his skin under the dazzling lights flashed out from the disco ball, and of how blue his eyes were when they were watery, blond lashes sticking together. But that's all; I can't remember when or how we ended up in this bed in our not-so-neat hotel room, and I have no idea what I did exactly to him. Never mind, I bet he doesn't either. Only that the fact that I woke up finding myself fully dressed while Tris was in nothing but underwear might mean something.

I must have been thinking too much that I've stopped moving, because he suddenly breaks the contact, leaving cool air to fill the emptiness between my lips.

He gives me a look that somehow makes me shiver. This is one of the few times I don't understand what he means, and it gets me nervous.

His hands travel from my neck to my cheeks and hold my face down. I close my eyes. The moment our lips touch again, he slides his tongue in - and the tip of it traces down my fang. I don't know for what purpose he is doing this, but I've always kept it a secret that vampires can be much more easily aroused by the touches of their fangs than basically any other body parts. It's like an electric shock running down my spine and radiating to every vein, burning my body and getting me lightheaded. It makes me want to bite deep into the fresh, soft skin and let the sweet scent of blood fill my throat. It makes me lose control.

And I let it.

Scarlet emerges from his lips. I carry the little drops of blood on the tip of my tongue and draw a thin red line down the side of his neck. He doesn't make much sound, but from the fastening rise and fall of his bare chest and the violent heartbeat I feel at my fingertips, I know how well this works. His hands drop from my neck to the sheets, and the long, bony fingers curl up slowly, shakily around the fabric. On his abdomen, the traces of last night have dried. I glance up a little. His head is thrown back, fully revealing the beautifully sculpted jawline and the budging Adam's apple on his pale, smooth neck. A deep blush rises up his body, turning the skin from warm to hot.

I linger around the belly button, taking a moment to make sure that the door is well locked and no one is coming this way before going further down. The muscle around his waist is twitching nervously; his left knee rises up and brushes past the inner side of my thigh. I swallow hard. The tip of my tongue draw a thin, wet, blood-soaked line across his bulge beneath the semi-transparent fabric of the white boxer. He gasps, and his body jerks so violently that he's almost thrusting into my mouth. I giggle a little, placing a hand on his abdomen to keep him steady. He's breathing fast and loudly, still trying to hold back the moans and ending up sounding like sobbing. A mixture of saliva and precome soaks his underwear, and the sight makes me want to both look away and stare without blinking for as long as I can at the same time.

I sit up, and the pain at my crotch immediately makes me wince. It's a bit of a struggle getting the trousers off; my head is spinning and my fingers suddenly become so clumsy. It takes me a good twenty seconds or so, and when I look up again, I see those blue eyes of his - They're kind of watery, and the gaze is less sharp than usual, but just as hard to face. It's close to emotionless, but then there's all the sentiments in it, and it's so pure and so damn innocent. His eyes travel slowly down my body, and then back up, stopping at my face. I feel like being peeled.

This is so awkward.

I notice the little change of his expression when he looks below my waist. I shoot him a warning gaze; he lowers the eyelids, licking the wound on his lips that I left just a while ago. I lean down and sink my fangs into the thin skin of his thigh. I manage to be as gentle as I can, not wanting to cause too much pain, but he still groans pretty loud. I pull out immediately and glance up. The enjoyment and satisfaction of tasting the savour of his blood, even just a little and only for an instant, is too much for me; it almost overrides the guilt. Nevertheless, I know I've crossed the line in some way, even if it's a line I set myself. In his groan there was as much pain as pleasure. I press my thumb on the fresh mark, letting its surface be covered with red. I reach up till my face is above his, and run the finger across his lower lip, painting it scarlet. His breath is warm against my skin.

He looks up straight into my eyes. I feel his hands at the back of my head, his fingers buried in my curls. Our lips meet, hot with the scent of his blood.

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it! I know I'm not very good at writing blood play...still practising. For some reason when I wrote 'the bloodsucker inside me has been revived' I couldn't stop thinking about Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, the sculpture in the Louvre...Fine. #MiddleOfTheNight will be out at midnight of 28 April! So excited.


End file.
